In the waiting room

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I sat in the doctor’s office.

Waiting.

The television was channeled to PBS; Wordgirl was the program starting.

The man next to me shifted in his seat.

“My appointment was supposed to be thirty minutes ago…the receptionist keeps the doctor’s schedules busy so the doctor’s time isn’t wasted. I guess their time is much more valuable than mine,” He grunted.

I smiled. “They asked me to come in early.”

“Whatever happened to the days of Roadrunner?” he grumbled, waving offhandedly at the television.

“What’s with all of this trying to shove education down kids’ throats with everything they watch?”

I looked up from what I was writing, “It’s better than some of the garbage they have on Cartoon Network—a lot of that is just mindless drivel.”

The man looked again at the TV set. “Yeah, I guess so…but Wordgirl?”

Little did he know that he was barking up the wrong tree; after all I am a teacher. “I think it’s great that kids can not only be entertained, but can learn at the same time.”

The man’s eyes roved about the room for a few moments, searching for the remote control. “But shows like Rocky & Bullwinkle; now that’s a show.”

I admitted that I’d not even seen the movie which had come out a few years ago.

“It surpassed my expectations!” he proclaimed. “It was really great. Of course, with my kids grown, I had to go see it by myself…” He paused. “You got any kids?”

“I have 28 of them.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“I’m a polygamist,” I returned to writing.

There was a long pause. “Well,” he finally said, “…that’s great.”

I waited for the uncomfortable silence to come to full gestation; I then looked up from the paper I was writing

“Just kidding, I’m a teacher.”

The man gave a low laugh and blew out a breath. “You know, Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons, now that’s what I call a show…”

Image garnered from: www.dhss.mo.gov/InterventionMICA/images/mmedia2.jpg

Neurologist Visit (part II) - The man headache

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I sat in the doctor’s office and filled out the plethora of forms needed before they could see me.

On about page twenty-three I found myself confronted with some questions which I thought were pretty bold. A few of my favorites were:

Do you have difficulty making decisions?
Do you find yourself depressed?
Do you have a great deal of worry or stress?
Do you experience social difficulties?
Have you ever considered suicide?
Do you snore?

Well, needless to say I felt inclined to utilize the “please explain in detail” space for each of these questions and explained them with the following:

Do you have difficulty making decisions?
At times I do, then again, I’m really not sure.

Do you ever find yourself depressed?
Yes, I do. However, I believe that this is a regular condition to everyone, so I’m not necessarily worried.

Do you have a great deal of worry or stress?
Yes. I’m a teacher.

Do you experience social difficulties?
Only around people.

Have you ever considered suicide?
As a fix to migraines? No. However, I have thought about it…haven’t we all?

Do you snore?
So I’ve been told; I was never awake to check.

When the doctor came in, he began to make inquiries, flip though charts, and narrow down the probable cause of my migraines. At one point, he took out my CT scan and proclaimed, “You have a beautiful brain.”

“Why, thank you.” I promptly responded, to which he started laughing.

He clarified with, “What I meant was the folds all look good, and there doesn’t seem to be any abnormalities. Well, other than Chronic Mastoiditis.”

There’s that accursed Chronic Mastoiditis again….

After several diminutive ‘tests’ of my reflexes and of how well the two hemispheres of my brain interact with each other, Dr. Andrews voiced his prognosis of my particular case. As it turns out, I don’t have any type of specialized strain of brain damage or anything like that whatsoever. What I do have is…

Migraines. Classic migraines to be exact.

Of course it would turn out that whatever I had, it would be a classic…

It turns out (in layman’s terms…I’ll not confound you with his technical jargon and doctorish explanations) that I have an area in my brain where pain is registered. There are certain times when all of the little ‘pain receptors’ just get slaughtered with incoming calls…like my email account with spam. As this little waiting room in my brain fills to capacity with incoming registerizations that I am in pain, it starts to take notice, freaks out, and starts to send out mass signals that I am in pain—hence, I soon am.

So, the remedy?

Head removal was one possible antidote; however, this was not the only means of repair. As it turns out, this might be treatable with medication which is to be taken daily. It is his hope, with this certain drug, that my headaches will start to do one of two things: go away altogether OR lose intensity.

Either one of these options would be a welcome change.

I pick up the meds tomorrow and from there starts what could be the end of a not-so-beautiful relationship with pain I’ve enjoyed for most of my life.

Prognosis?

I will live.

Neurologist visit

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Well, tomorrow after school is the big day. I’ll find out what I can do about the migraines which have haunted my life since I was 5…in other words, the past 47 years…

I think I’ll request the blunt method though.

Prognosis negative

Pin It Chronic Mastoiditis

Yep, that’s what they think.

Now, you’re ready to run to the search option of the internet to look up just what Chronic Mastoiditis is, aren’t you?

If you really want to know, feel free. At the time there is not much else to say…time will tell. However, didn’t I say it would be fine?

Now I get to see a neurologist instead.

Thanks for the concern.

However, I’m thinking that it might actually be a brain cloud…

The Scan

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I went to the hospital today and found out that I didn’t need an MRI, but instead, I needed a CAT scan. As I walked along the hallway with the nurse, I jokingly asked, “Is this going to be a problem? I’m allergic to cats.”

She burst out laughing and proceeded to tell this little comment to several other people on our journey down to the room where I’d have my head examined.

It didn’t take nearly as long as I originally thought; and since I went in early, I was on the road to southern Utah a few hours before I’d originally intended.

I’ll know on Monday.

I couldn’t handle it

Pin It The pain stormed through my head like a cyclonic shock wave.

I switched off the light and cradled my head in my hands. The pain was more than I wanted right then…or ever, to be honest.

I wanted to find someplace cool to sit, maybe like the walk-in freezer I’d often used so many times before at my old school. I’d go in and sit in there with my head up against one of the frosty shelves…anything to ease the tormenting pain.

The door opened and the doctor walked in. Out came a file as he began to question me. How long had it been like this? How often did they happen? He swam in and out of my consciousness as my stomach churned violently.

“Since I was five,” I responded, making a dive for the wastebasket and beginning to vomit spectacularly.

I think he was impressed; it was clear that I was not acting.

He paused his questioning until I’d finished.

“Have you ever had an MRI for this? Any type of blood work done? Have you ever seen a specialist?”

I wiped remnants of stomachness from my mouth and responded; the answer made me realize how stupid I’d been for a score of years…there was that simple fact that I’d had migraines for years and had never once consulted a doctor about it.

“No, no, and no.”

He made a note on his clipboard.

I was reminded of the episode of Seinfeld when Elaine went to see a doctor and happened to look at her chart; she noticed that a previous doctor had written, “Difficult” in her file. She then tries to steal the chart so that future doctors won't know about this little entry.

I was an idiot. I hadn’t sought out medical help from something which had been an affliction in my life for decades? Here is the beginnings of my own 'Elaine' file.

I had no answer, however, at this time I really didn’t care, it hurt too much to even think.

After another series of questions, and an additional vomiting episode, the doctor gave me some Rizatriptan Benzoate. What is it? Not sure, but it is supposed to work wonders. I am to give it a ‘test run’ the next time a migraine threatens to take over.

I came home and fell into bed, waking up some four to five hours later. Which brings me to my present ‘awakeness’ at nearly 1:00 in the morning. I’ll probably be up for a few more hours as sleep won’t come to me now.

So, final prognosis? As of right now there is none. I will have to get an MRI done…the doctor said he’d like to get a good look at my brain.

Hope he’s not too impressed…